Fragments of Time
by minasark
Summary: A collection of fic-lets as told from Dimitri's point of view spanning through the VA series, Bloodlines, and beyond.
I knew it was a slight invasion of privacy, one that Rose most likely wouldn't react kindly to, but her words back in the gym sparked my curiosity got the better of me.

For two years they had been off the grid, an impressive feat for a full-fledged guardian and their Moroi let alone two teenaged girls, with little to no training on evasion tactics. They had spent a substantial time in Chicago and who knew where else without anyone knowing where they were.

Two girls against the world.

Had it not been for that anonymous tip, they would still be in Portland, maybe getting ready to move on to their next location. The contents of these boxes could help piece together the puzzle that was their time on the run, maybe provide answers to how they pulled it off for so long.

It would also provide insight as to who my charge and new student were, more than the basic facts that the folders I had all but memorized at this point could provide.

With my actions rationalized, I took off the lid of the box marked 'Vasilisa' and began taking items out one by one, studying every detail.

For the most part, the box was full of…well, junk. University of Oregon t-shirts, a few from Layola Univeristy in Chicago, University of Iowa, and some from the University of Washington. I raised my eyebrows when I saw the folded shirts of the last two colleges. They were smarter than we had given them credit for. They settled in cities that harbored large universities, places that were perfect for two young girls to seek anonymity without their presence being questioned. They could find affordable housing by moving in with other college students seeking last minute roommates negating the need for leases. They would also have been able pay their roommates with cash—cash that Vasilisa had taken from her trust fund before they had left—leaving no paper trail.

'Oh yes,' I thought, 'Those two were _very_ smart.'

I took out a notebook and started to create a timeline. They had left Montana and headed east, setting in Iowa City, Iowa before moving over to Illinois to live in Chicago. They went from a large college town to a very large city—no doubt leaving Iowa City when their legitimacy as college students was questioned. They had been…what, 15 at the time? The would have barely been able to pass themselves as freshman, which was why they felt the need to move somewhere comprised of more than just college kids where their actions would be barely noticed.

Then something had happened in Chicago, something that scared them from the Midwest and to the West Coast where they settled in Seattle before eventually heading to Portland. An assortment of stolen student and state IDs confirmed this trail.

I pulled out a few more odds and ends, folded sheets of paper, a used notebook, an iPod, and a little photo album. Small things that were easy to grab on a moment's notice. I opened the photo album, curiosity once again getting the better of me. The photos at the front of the album where of photos that had clearly been taken several years ago. Photos of her with her family and photos of her as a child with another little girl, a girl I suddenly realized was Rose. I peered at photos, slightly shocked to see the wild girl that I had just spent the better part of my year hunting down smiling with the innocence of youth, not knowing the young woman bursting with out of control energy she was destined to become.

A thought suddenly came to me.

Had they been bonded their entire lives? From the looks of these photos, they had been friends since early childhood. I'd read in Rose's file that she had become a ward of the school when she was a baby after her mother had signed over her legal rights to continue being a Guardian. Had the Dragomirs become something of a surrogate family? Rose had been staying with them during St. Vladimir's summer break two and a half years ago. She had been in the car during the accident that only she and Vasilisa survived. What had the princess said during the meeting with Kirova…that her parents wanted Rose as her Guardian?

While it wasn't uncommon for Moroi and Dhampirs to become friends at school and for said Moroi to request their Dhampir friends as Guardians wasn't all that uncommon—after all, it'd happened with Ivan and I—for her family to have expressed interest in it as well, to have maybe made it a condition in their will should something have happened to them, was almost unheard of. Then again, a Moroi family—a royal Moroi family no less—practically adopting Dhampir that for all intents and purposes had been orphaned was also unheard of.

As was two teenagers breaking out of a high security school and disappear without a trace for two years.

I was starting to get the feeling that when it came to Rose Hathaway and Vasilisa Dragomir, anything was possible. 'Unusual' didn't begin to cover their friendship.

I put everything back into the box and moved on to the one marked 'Rose.' I paused momentarily, my earlier reservations about privacy resurfacing, but quickly pushed them aside. While I had gathered quite a bit of intel from the princess's box, it was clear that Rose would have been the mastermind behind their daring escape and subsequent time on the run. Not only could I find more about their time away from the academy from the box's contents, I would also find some insight on how my new student operated and it could prove useful in her extra lessons. That was what I told myself, trying to justify my actions when in all honesty, I just wanted to understand the enigma that was Rose Hathaway.

I considered myself good at reading people, understanding how they operated with just a few minutes of observation. With Rose, I was stumped. Every time I thought I had figured her out, she did or said something that surprised me and I am not a man who enjoys surprises. I like to know everything I can about any given situation and make the most informed decisions I possibly can.

Spontaneity was not my forte.

I found similar shirts and IDs in Rose's box that I had found in Vasilisa's. The girls had done a good job taking IDs from those who looked very similar to them, though in Rose's case, none of the girls whose identity she had borrowed held a candle to her beauty.

I frowned, setting the small stack of IDs down. _Where had that thought come from?_

Like with Vasilisa's box, Rose also had an assortment of papers and used notebooks. Unlike with Vasilisa's box, however, I picked up one of the notebooks and skimmed through it, shocked at what I found.

They were full of notes. Notes from…a biology class? Had they actually attended school?

One of the topics that had been debated upon their return was their education. How far behind would they be after missing two years of education? Not just education specific to their respective races and training, but basic subjects: history, science, math. Would they be able to make it up and graduate on time?

While it would have been risky trying to enroll with fake identification, popping into classes on a college campus—say a lecture-style class at a large university—they could make a half-hearted attempt at continuing their education while staying under the radar.

I set the notebook I had been skimming down.

While Rose had betrayed her age with her outbursts during the meeting with Kirova and the lack of formal knowledge she had shown in Stan's class, she was extremely cunning—something that every single adult in this school had failed to realize. She had been dealt a rough hand in life and she had learned how to play that hand with a shrewdness that people twice her age couldn't even manage. She was a survivor. Not only could she could adapt to any given situation, she could thrive.

I made a mental note to push her harder during next morning's lesson. Despite the complaints she had lodged before this evening's practice and despite the fact that her training had taken a two year hiatus, she could have handled way more than the weight conditioning I had made her complete. I checked her folder again, seeing the excellent grades she had received in her combat training before she had left. She had been at the top of her class. I had been right before back in Kirova's office—she was simply undisciplined.

That was going to change. No student of mine would be without discipline. She needed to be taught control. To harness her wild energy and focus it on her training, on building her stamina.

Running.

A smile slowly crossed my face as I turned my attention back to her box. Something told me she would not enjoy running laps. I hadn't when I was in school either, but I had to admit that it was an efficient way to drive a lot of lessons I would be trying to teach her—that my teachers back in Russia had taught me—home.

I pulled out a few more objects that had been of little consequence: another ipod (though older and more 'used' than the princess's had been), some transit maps and bus schedules from Portland, and other odds and ends from their time in Portland.

The last object gave me pause. It was a box of chocolates. Frowning, I picked it up, confused as to why the Alchemists who had been in charge of clean up back in Portland hand included this. Any questions I had towards the box's relevance disappeared when I opened it, discovering a treasure trove of seemingly random objects instead of candies. Ticket stubs, old wristbands from clubs, seashells, and other small objects no doubt packed with sentimental value filled the box.

Vasilisa used photos to preserve her memories, I realized. Rose kept mementos.

I lightly ran my hand over the knick-knacks, picking a few of them up for closer examination as gently as I would a priceless family heirloom, knowing that I was treading on very sacred ground. A ticket stub from a football game in Iowa City, a wristband from Lollapalooza, a coffee sleeve from the original Starbucks in Seattle...tiny keepsakes from her travels. I didn't like at how many wristbands from clubs and festivals there were, but then again, I shouldn't have been surprised—all of their stolen IDs placed their ages over 21. I was almost glad that Rose had experienced all of those nights out while on the run because that behavior would almost certainly stop now that she was back at the academy.

I wasn't naïve enough to think that Kirova's social probation would stop Rose from seeking it out, but I could certainly make her extra training hard enough that she would think twice about whether or not a hangover was worth it.

I made a mental note to add an extra mile to next morning's run.

I carefully put everything back in the box the way I had found it, placing strips of tape over the boxes' lids to deter the girls from thinking that their belongings, as meager as they were, had been examined.

They may not have been much, but both of those boxes had given me great insight to the girls I was now, more or less, in charge of.

I placed the boxes by my door as a reminder to deliver them to the girls the next day and started to get ready for bed. With all of the activity that had gone on over the last few days, it had just dawned on me that I had only gotten a few hours of sleep over the course of finding and securing Vasilisa and Rose. I had spent the better part of last year focusing on finding them. After losing Ivan, I had been reassigned to the school and jumped at the opportunity to distract myself from my grief by burying myself in the task of bringing those girls back to the academy. It had given me purpose.

Now, they were back and the academy and I found myself with a different task, perhaps one more daunting than trying to find them. My mind was racing with all of the information I had learned in the last hour, formulating lesson plans and training strategy. I found that I was more determined than ever to make sure that Rose graduated. With their bond and close friendship she was the obvious and best choice to be Vasilisa's Guardian, but Kirova was right. A poorly trained Guardian was worse than no Guardian at all and I knew all too well that even the best trained Guardians could still fail.

No. Rose needed to be the best of the best if she was to protect the last Dragomir and it was my job to make sure that she was. A job I knew with perfect clarity was going to be tougher than anything I had ever encountered. It was an interesting opportunity: training the person that I would essentially be working with for the foreseeable future.

And that's when it hit me.

My future was tied to those the success of those two as well. I was Vasilisa's Guardian and Rose…well, she was my future guarding partner. My mind flashed to something that I had found in Rose's stash of mementos, a tiny slip of paper I had recognizes as a fortune from a fortune cookie.

 _Nothing is impossible_. _The word itself says 'I'm possible.'_

I smiled resting my head on my pillow, fully understanding why Rose had saved that tiny piece of paper.

Tonight I had come to realize that when it came to those two, anything was possible. As I started to drift off to sleep, something told me that my life was never going be the same.

 **Author's Notes:** This story is going to be composed of many what I like to call 'fic-lets.' Stories and scenes that are too long to be drabbles, but not long enough to be standalone fics of their own. Hope you enjoy reading them and as always, please let me know what you think via comments! Thank you!


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